Never Was
by Rashka
Summary: A series of not-quite-drabbles following Azula's struggle back from her psychotic break. She's not healthy, she's not happy, but she's thinking. It all has to start somewhere.


Disclaimer: No own.

A/N: Takes places immediately post-series, assuming Azula was taken to the Avatar-verse equivalent of an asylum. Title name from "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence.

Never Was

Weeks passed before she had a coherent thought. Months before she even considered escape. Zuko would visit when he could but the new Fire Lord didn't have the luxury of free time.

When he did come, and even when he didn't, she raged. They had not known the power and fury of a dark dragon but they would. She would show them with fire and screams and curses. Azula would not be forgotten here.

She still saw Mom. More now that before and always with that same sad, disappointed look on her face. Azula didn't cry. Only they weak cried, like Zuko did whenever she screamed at their mother. Sometimes she would talk to Mom even when she wasn't there, just to see Zuzu's reaction.

After about eight months, it stopped being fun.

It was the cricket-mouse's fault. Stupid creature shouldn't been scurrying around during one of her (tantrums) 'episodes.' But it was and she threw her dish and it broke the cricket-mouse's back. She hadn't meant to kill this time. When she heard the plaintive squeaks of its babies, she nearly raged again. It wasn't her fault. It was an accident.

But that didn't stop the squeaks.

Father would burn them. Weak things deserved to die. Still, she was a princess and princesses knew to take care of their subjects. They strong ones, anyway.

One can't exactly rule over ask and bones, could one?

Bread crumbs didn't work right away. She whined and badgered for milk, something other than this (prison) 'hospital' drivel. She couldn't just ask. Any signs of calm were taken as warnings, the inhale before a firefight.

So she fed the babies milk soaked in a piece of her dress. Zuko didn't know. No one did and she took special pleasure that she had something Zuko didn't.

Even if she did still see Mom.

A cold front swept through one night, colder than it had been for months. Azula huddled in the corner, the now fluffy nest of cricket-mice tucked safely in a cleft in the floor. Only one survived that night.

Azula didn't cry then either. Weak things died. That's just how it was. It left more resources for the strong, the ones who could benefit.

She cleared the dead from the nest and put more padding around the edges.

This one was big enough for bread crumbs.

Strange how such a small creature could dictate her days, give her a timeframe. She'd wake every few hours, feed the little one pieces of what she'd hidden away, check the pan of water, go back to sleep.

Sometimes they had to clean her (cell) room and her chest always tightened when they neared the nest. But they never bothered it and she only had to give a token 'You peasants have no right' speech for them to go away. As long as she acted like a spoiled princess, as long as they thought she didn't care, she was safe.

She decided to call the survivor "Ping." Not very original. Zuko was always better at such…sentimentality. Mom didn't come as much anymore now that she had Ping to talk to. They thought she was still crazy but that was okay.

At this point, she kind of thought so too.

She never saw the snake. She should have. Predators are supposed to alert to other predators. But by the time she realized there was danger, Ping had been bitten.

Her reflexes, once so sharp and lethal, were only quick enough to grab the snake and snap its neck. She threw it to the side and rushed to Ping. His little body spasmed with the poison, his paws and tail twitching until they didn't. Azula's eyes widened as if she looked hard enough, something would move, twitch, anything to show he was still alive. The minutes stretched. Nothing.

This fit was the worst yet.

Zuko came. Of course he did. He tired to talk to her. The doctor came too, said something was wrong and was there anything he could do to help? Something in his voice pricked a nerve and she snapped, throwing whatever she could at the glass.

But not the little bundle by the window. Not that.

She screamed about everything but that. Father, Mother, Zuko, those filthy peasants. She just kept screaming and babbling and raging.

"I always lose things," she spat. "I'm never good enough!"

There. She'd said it.

And just like that, the fire died. She felt something wet on her cheeks. She scratched at it, these horrible gurgling, braying noises escaping her mouth. She dimly heard Zuko shout then she felt arms wrap around her. She struggled, tried to speak, but he just held her tighter.

Father would be ashamed but, right then, she didn't care.

Her escape a month later felt natural. The planning, the subtlety, the intrigue. It was more 'her' and after that embarrassment, she needed as much 'her' as she could.

The Plan involved more than just escape, of course. She would regain her strength, raise an army, take back the throne.

The first time she had to steal food to stave off the bone-deep hunger, she realized she might have to adjust the Plan a little.

It was easy enough to get lost in the Earth Kingdom, especially dressed in rags and going by a different name. People may have been willing to give dear, scarred Zuzu the benefit of the doubt but they wouldn't be so kind to the Mad Princess. So she wore green and kept her head down.

Honestly, how had Zuko lived like this for three years?

The villages she passed through weren't much better. Paranoia, she expected. Earth Kingdom towns suffering from grain shortages, sure. But Fire Nation Colonies?

It would be easy to blame Zuko. She was crazy though, not stupid. The deprivation was far, far older than the year and a half Zuko had been in power. At least a decade of struggle, if not more. What was this? Father demanded sacrifice from every citizen but not to the extent of emaciation.

At least, she hadn't thought so.

Things look a little different on foot than in an Imperial tank.

Having to work was...interesting. People trusted initiative, diligence, so it was her best chance of gaining information and allies. At first.

After collapsing on a too thin, musty-smelling pallet after a day of washing dishes, Azula decided that plans of conquest would have to wait. She was too tired now.

She never stayed in one place too long. A week at most and someone always had work of some kind. Theft didn't seem as appealing after the fourth or fifth time. 'I'm the Princess of the Fire Nation' didn't dull the twinge in her stomach as much as it used to either.

Other things changed. Calluses formed on her fingers and heels. She grew taller, thinner, her hair longer. Zuko put out warrants for her capture—capture, not death. Dear Zuzu.

The first time she killed a man with a blade instead of her fire, she threw up. She was gone. Azula, Princess and Fire Lord of the Honorable House of Sozin, was really gone.

Taking up archery wasn't quite as scary after that.

She didn't see her mother anymore, except in the mirror. Azula learned to get along without them. Sometimes, she wondered what Zuko was doing.

Then she'd find a notice of troop recall or a site for a memorial of all four nations in some random town and she remembered how stubborn and foolish he was. He had put himself in a position where he had to play the dancing monkey for the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes. He had to, if he was to keep their people safe. People still wanted them dead, still said the Avatar should wipe the Fire Nation off the face of the map. Zuko said the Avatar was a thirteen-year-old child and they should fix their own problems.

Not that she was proud of him growing a backbone or anything.

Closets. Baths. Ovens. Azula had a new appreciation for all of it. No amount of firebending could heat a river hot enough to bathe in comfortable and if she had to eat one more charred rabbit foot, she would scream.

But she didn't miss home any more than she was proud of Zuko or angry at Father. She would survive.

Azula found it was getting harder and harder to hate Zuko and believe Father. People didn't worship the Dragon Throne like Father said. They feared it, feared what would happen to their families, but since the Avatar, such fear could not control them anymore. She'd seen glimpses of…change…during her hunt for the Avatar. At the time, she'd dismissed them as insignificant sparks soon doused. The masses would learn eventually.

Only they hadn't. They bayed for the blood of her people, even the children, even innocents like Ty Lee. Seeing the graves—so, so many stones and wooden markers—she couldn't quite condemn them for that.

What. The. _Hell_.

Note to Self: Avoid the Foggy Swamp and its mind-breaking weirdness at _all costs_.

Sneaking into Ba Sing Se was both easier and harder this time around. Easier because after months of 'roughing it,' no one saw anything but a pretty face. Harder because she couldn't just walk in without paperwork.

The cover story was easy enough. He name was Ren and she'd lost both of her parents to the war. Yes, she had an older brother but he was gone too. No, no other family. Yes, she had some skills and she could learn quickly enough.

A particularly desperate family took her in on the ferry and she got into the Lower Ring with them. The little girl latched onto her for some reason. She tried not to think about it.

Sometimes she slipped. Over ten years of acting and speaking a certain way couldn't just be erased. Sometimes she forgot she was refugee. Sometime she remembered all too well and that just ruined the rest of the day.

The slips didn't really bother her until the little girl, Chiyo, snapped at a stall merchant in a very familiar manner. It chilled Azula to the bone.

"No," she said sternly. "That's below us."

She found the Dragon of the West quite by accident. She knew he was in the Upper Ring. She paid attention. But she had no intention of seeing him or coming into any contact with him whatsoever.

Then Chiyo ran off, got kidnapped, and because the Earth Kingdom didn't teach their girls _anything_, Azula went after her. She tracked the fools to an inn in the Middle Ring and put the fear of Agni in them. Without her bending, thank you. The ilence made her feel better than she had in months but she stopped when she spotted Chiyo hiding behind a crate.

Azula let the clench in her stomach shift to anger and lit into the little girl. How foolish and irresponsible she'd been, how worried her parents were, what would have happened if Azula hadn't gotten there in time, didn't she know what thugs did to cute little girls?

Chiyo started crying. Azula heard herself try to back peddle. She patted the girl on the arm, nearly jumped when the child tackled her, snotting and crying and apologizing over and over again. Azula tentatively wrapped her arms around her and started rubbing her back like Mom used to.

Iroh found them, sitting in the alley, and invited them to tea.

Iroh didn't turn her in but, in exchange, she had to visit. Regularly. Azula agreed, uncomfortably eager for a familiar face, and dropped by the Jasmine Dragon as often as she could.

One day, the tea shop was closed. Azula wondered a bit then winced. Lu Ten. She walked around for a while, fully intending to home—home?—soon, but somehow she found herself outside the Wall. Iroh sat under a tree, playing that blasted tsungi horn.

She waited until he left then took his place. Grey wisps of incense still floated in the air.

"Hello, cousin." She ignored the sting in her eyes. "It's been a while."

The next morning, Azula came down with a fever and stayed in bed for three days.

"This isn't going to work."

"You'll be fine."

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Well, that remains to be seen. Remember to breathe."

The silk felt strange against her skin, the shoes awkward and tight as she followed her uncle into the palace. Guards snapped to attention, wary of whatever nefarious plots they credited her with. Iroh walked slowly, a calm, lumbering dragon to her annoyingly skittish firedrake.

Then she saw him. Zuko sat at the top of the palace steps, dressed in a simple, open robe and loose pants. Long messy hair fell over his scar and his bare feet smacked on the stone when he stood.

Emotions she couldn't name roiled in her chest and stomach as she slowly knelt, kowtowed before him. He made a strangled noise and rushed down the steps. For the second time, Zuko wrapped his arms around her.

"I was so worried," he said, his voice thick. Azula clenched his robe in her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't manage more than a whisper.

"Can I come home?"

Zuko started crying—stupid Zuzu—and hugged her tighter. She cried too but it was okay this time. No one could see.


End file.
